


By Heaven, I Think My Love As Rare

by lesbianquill



Category: Holby City
Genre: Drabble, F/F, could probably pass for first time if you like, so fluffy that my eyes are bleeding rainbows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 12:50:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10465431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianquill/pseuds/lesbianquill
Summary: Bernie does a very good job of looking ethereal at any time she shouldn’t, and Serena is smitten.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's about time I dipped my toe into the Berena fandom, yo
> 
> I've been hyping up writing something for these two for ages, and prompt #4 on my big WIP post seemed to be the most popular (or one of them at least), so here we are. It took a bit of a different turn than what I originally had in mind, but I hope y'all enjoy it regardless. (one day I'll write some notes that don't sound awkward and cheesy, honest)

There’s a moment when Serena hangs in a tranquil bliss, warmth spreading across her skin like a spring afternoon, body content as it sings its praises for Berenice Wolfe and the tongue that could whisper a thousand sweet nothings that she would never, ever tire of. 

And she does whisper them, often-- captured between kiss-swollen lips, against the well travelled valley between her breasts down to the curve of her hip, or between her legs until Serena feels like her lungs will give out-- and Serena’s heart swells. She just can’t get enough of her.

Her eyes crack open to find Bernie still perched at the edge of the bed. She presses one last kiss to Serena’s sex, and she’s struggling not to buck up against those lips of hers, because as much as she feels at peace there’s never not that thought of chasing her lover from each overwhelming peak to the next. Bernie strokes her trembling legs, looks up at her through long eyelashes as she finally pulls away. She looks far too perfect to be real, Serena thinks, but there’s no doubt that Bernie is absolutely hers: not an apparition, not a fantasy to be had while she’s hundreds of miles away. 

They are there, together, left to explore each other at their leisure with hushed voices and burning cheeks. Like they are a pair of giddy teenagers discovering the wonders of sex for the first time, all over again. And  _ god _ is it far more wonderful than either of them could have hoped for.

Bernie’s lips are pulled back into a lazy, glistening smile as she leans her head against Serena's thigh. Serena reaches out, slowly links her fingers with Bernie’s own, still wet from their lovemaking. An unspoken  _ thank you -- you are perfect -- _

_ I love you. _

It doesn’t need saying. It’s hanging in the air as they look at each other-- Bernie smug and doting as she looks up at her exhausted, contented lover-- and Serena can’t imagine ever feeling so complete with anyone else. Not that their relationship had been without its share of hideous ups and downs, of course-- but Bernie had captured her heart in a way that nobody else had ever, could ever.

Everything is new and equally as wonderful as it is terrifying. Bernie is softer than anyone Serena has ever known, even when she is quiet and withdrawn, or barking orders, or slumped over her desk after a long day of tireless work.

_ Especially  _ when she is setting Serena’s skin ablaze with her tongue, or her fingers. Or both-- everything all at once until Serena feels like she can’t breathe, can’t feel anything but Bernie on her skin and in her mind.

She knows that Bernie knows, because she feels it, too-- feels her world being turned on its head for the sake of a woman she hadn’t expected to love.

Serena tugs on Bernie’s hand, a silent plea that she so easily obliges, crawling her way upwards to settle into her side, pulling the duvet to envelop their bare bodies. Bernie wriggles until she’s comfortable. Presses a soft kiss to Serena’s shoulder. Gives her hand a gentle squeeze. This is what it’s like, Serena realises, for everything to fall into place. 

There is nowhere else she would rather be.

So somehow, Bernie does a very good job of looking ethereal at any time she shouldn’t. Even when she’s exhausted after hours of intense surgeries, or when she wakes up in the morning, with sleep clinging to her eyes. Or, as Serena has come so eagerly to learn, when she has her head between her thighs.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I need to go to bed now. As always, you can yell at me about the fics I should be working on over at my tumblr (@mxquill). Let me know how I'm doing!!


End file.
